Of Holding On (Of Letting Go)
by soniagiris
Summary: One of the last moments to share.


Upon checking his watch and sending Kawakami a mental thank you for letting him off early, Akira takes place in the line to the smoothie stand, pretty damn ready to burn off his tongue with something disgustingly healthy. For some strange reasons, he realizes that he missed those drinks. They taste like charcoal and rotten raisins, there's no use denying that, but there is something… pretty Tokyo-core in tanking them up on a daily basis. Besides, with the money left from thieving, he can splurge on some chocolate topping. And he does just that. And almost throws up after taking one sip, because the cocoa does not help. At all. Akira's sure that, if Morgana was with him, he'd laugh his tail off, but, with the cat being at Haru's place, he's alone with this hellish juice apparently worth five hundred yen. Akira shrugs and polishes it off anyway.

He really missed that drink, and missed how it felt to chug it while watching people move on their ways, everyone carrying their own little worlds on their shoulders, like sailboats gliding on a great, quiet lake. Akira bins the empty cup and walks away, towards his destination.

And his destination doesn't look so hot today, which Akira can tell right away when he spots it. Him. With his arms wrapped around himself, leaning against a wall and hunching his shoulders, Yusuke doesn't even seem to notice when Akira steps closer to him, with his unfocused stare pointing more or less downwards. And he is also wearing an actual overcoat, instead of merely his usual cotton jacket. Sure, it may not be a big deal, considering it is, after all, February, almost the end of it, the air remaining cold and crispy — but that's actually the first time Akira ever sees Yusuke sporting clothes appropriate for the weather. Bufu bod, Futaba once said and then cracked up at her own joke so hard everyone got worried she'd break a rib.

"Hi there," Akira says quietly when he's close enough, and notices how pale his boyfriend is. Even paler than usual, to the point he's almost translucent, save for splashes of vivid red pooling on his cheeks. Yup, no way this asshole's in perfect health today.

"Oh." Yusuke looks at him blearily, then smiles back, mild as always. "Hello. I thought you would show up here today." His voice rings quiet and hoarse.

"Of course I would," Akira scoffs, rolling his eyes, "but you, on the other hand, shouldn't have."

"Huh? What do you mean," Yusuke tilts his head, brushes the errant strand of hair back behind his ear and frowns, "by that?"

To that confused reply, Akira can do little more than shake his head and press his hand to Yusuke's forehead, making the boy sigh and lean into the touch. Just as expected, his skin isn't pleasantly cool as usual, but hot and a bit damp. Worrying.

"I mean," Akira says, not moving his palm away and watching how Yusuke's eyes flutter closed, "that you're running a fever."

"I'm most... certainly not."

"Darling. You've most certainly caught a cold." Akira lets go of him. "What were your plans for today?"

"Mm, what I have in my mind is us having a stroll in the Yoyogi park..." Yusuke straightens up, opening his eyes bit by bit and struggling for a tissue. "With the scenery being affected by… by the weather, I thought to seek inspiration in… in it. Yes." He nods to himself and wipes at his nose. Akira rolls his eyes.

"The only place we can go is Takemi-san's." Anticipating Yusuke's protests, Akira adds, "Or your dorms. You need to lay down and rest somewhere warm."

"Such a Morgana thing to say," Yusuke murmurs, a tad petulantly. "But… I am not getting out of this one, right?"

"No way in hell, dear."

"Alright then." He makes a sour expression. "The dorms, then, if you insist."

"But we still need to get in contact with Takemi-san." Akira pulls out his phone and selects her number from the contact list. "And you'll need to tell her how you're feeling. And be one hundred percent honest about it, okay?"

For a moment, he's sure that Yusuke will pout again, claim he's doing peachy, then accuse him of blowing things out of proportions — but then his expression softens, the blooming offense slips from his face, until Akira can finally see an exhausted, sick boy who's too weary to be his usual energetic, keen self. Who barely has the energy to nod.

Takemi, bless her punk rock heart, doesn't require much clarification on why she's getting phoned out of the blue. Two minutes into the call, she asks to hear from the patient himself, and Akira passes his cell to Yusuke, who accepts it with a slow little shrug. When he's talking to Takemi, Akira takes his time observing him and confirming that his worries weren't superfluous. Yusuke's gestures lack their usual brisky sort of elegance, and he doesn't seem very able to focus on the conversation, pausing before answering every single one of Takemi's questions. At one point, he needs to push his hand to his mouth to suppress a nasty fit of coughing which leaves him short-winded for half a minute.

Thank goodness Akira decided to meet with him today. Knowing Yusuke's luck, he'd end up working himself to a collapse, maybe even ending up with something severe. Akira takes the phone when Yusuke's done and listens to Takemi's concise instructions.

"I will text you the list of medications you need to buy," she says by the end. "Your boy isn't in very bad shape, got the common cold, but you need to check his temperature, make sure he doesn't overexert himself and takes his pills. Oh, and he said he's on T." When Akira hums in affirmation, she adds, "Then don't buy aspirin. Ibuprofen should be better. Some vitamin C, cough suppressants, maybe something to boost up his immune system… You take care of yourself too, Kurusu, if you want to tend to him. I don't wanna see you unwell again," she says with an audible smile. Akira smiles back and ends the call. True to her words, less than a minute later she sends him his shopping list.

"Alright," Akira says as he's reading through it, "we'll stop by the pharmacy, and then we're going to your dorms."

"If that is what you want…" Yusuke picks up his schoolbag from the floor and pauses to rub his temple. "I'm sorry for ruining our date."

"Don't worry about it." Akira reaches out to take his hand and squeeze it gently. That's all he can do in public, so he's a bit impatient to get somewhere private and hug him properly. "Let's go."

After purchasing a small plastic bag of meds, Yusuke starts gripping about a waste of team funds on petty things, and it takes Akira more time than he'd want to convince him that, with the Thieves no longer needing to buy weapons or band-aids (and Akira selling all those Somas and Goho-M's to Iwai), they're all pretty much swimming in cash. And, when he mentions the talk he had with Makoto about sharing the money with the team members, Yusuke gives him a wide-eyed stare.

"If it's alright for me to ask…" he says, quiet enough that the other people in the train car won't be able to hear, "How much do you…"

"We have five million yen left," Akira whispers back. "Haru, Ann and Morgana refused their share, so Makoto and I decided that we'll give you and Ryuji two million each and the rest of us will split so we get three hundred thousand per person. Everyone but you knows already, sorry. Oh, and the extra one hundred thousand we're gonna spend on some celebration."

"That's…" Yusuke gapes. "W-well. I didn't… I didn't think we had earned so much with our activities."

"Yeah, yeah." Akira rubs the back of his neck. "I'm still shook." Yusuke lets out a little laugh at that, then rests his head on Akira's shoulder and allows his breath to even out. He looks so peaceful that Akira feels bad when he needs to wake him up as they reach their station.

Kosei dorms aren't exactly unfamiliar, and the people working at the front office know him from his previous visits, but Akira still needs to use his charm to make them let him stay overnight. Cajoling the hell out of them, he finally gets the workers to concede after calling Sojiro for his permission. The man is a bit surprised, but doesn't take long to agree, and Akira signs up the list of visitors as 'Akira Sakura'. Well. Wouldn't that be a nice surname to have, he thinks bitterly, then goes back to Yusuke, who seems hardly awake at this point, and guides him to his room.

"Okay," he says as he examines the place, almost bursting with canvas, brushes and sets of pigments, then puts his stuff on a paint-stained desk. "First I need to take your temperature, then you go take a bath and put on something thicker than pyjamas."

"As ordered, Joker," Yusuke says with a weak but cheeky smirk. After getting his fever checked (thirty-eight point two degrees Celsius, and the dork claims to feel well), he pulls out his amenities from a ratty wardrobe and, giving Akira one last suffering stare, heads out to the communal bathroom.

"Try not to fall asleep," Akira yells after him and decides that, if the poor bastard isn't back in half an hour, he will go check if he hasn't drowned or, uh, passed out while taking a shower. Better safe than sorry. Especially considering how he stayed up until three in the morning, according to Futaba, with whom he talked about about digital art or something else. At least, that's what she told Akira over breakfast, grinning whilst nursing her coffee and headache.

Thankfully, twenty minutes later (yes, Akira was watching the time, better safe than sorry ), Yusuke does return safe and more or less sound, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie. Akira's hoodie. The one he wore during that month between Akechi's betrayal and Shido's confession.

"So that's where it went, huh," Akira says wryly. Yusuke gives him a measuring look, then goes back to folding his clothes. "I thought I lost it."

"During your, ah, absence… I borrowed it when visiting Sayuri."

"You stole it," Akira corrects.

"I missed you," Yusuke replies, quietly — but with confidence. It sounds so raw and open than Akira instantly relents to the need to step closer and embrace his boyfriend from behind, making him jolt and almost drop his binder. "W-what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Akira presses his ear to his boyfriend's neck, listening to his heartbeat. "I missed you too. So, so much."

None of them say, it was only a bit more than a month; how we will survive the next year, when it's your-slash-my time to go home. How will we do that. Instead of getting sad over what's gonna happen (and what they'll certainly do survive), they step away from each other, Akira checks the cup of tea he prepped while Yusuke dumps his stuff on the desk chair and starts glowering at his bed.

"So?" Akira asks with a raised eyebrow while handing him the drink and the meds. "Bottoms up, then hop in."

"Hm. Yes, yes." He takes the pills, then the tea, but, even after he's done, he still doesn't move a muscle. Just stares with his eyebrows furrowed.

"You want me to join you?" Akira says, half-jokingly, and isn't even surprised when Yusuke sends him a sheepish little grin. "No problem then. Lemme just—"

"No, wait," Yusuke says. "I— I was merely trying to jest. You getting a cold from me is— It would be well beyond rude."

"Don't worry about it." Akira shakes his head and says, "I never get sick. Last time I did, I was four."

"But—"

"But if I somehow do," he interjects, "you'll take care of me, alright? Fair trade." When Yusuke nods, he continues, "So lemme just change. Can I borrow something from you?"

Soon enough, he's clothed in but an undershirt and a pair of soft pyjama pants, the fabric well-worn and comfortable, just like most of Yusuke's clothes. Both boys worm under the covers; Akira lies on his back and loops his arm around Yusuke's waist, who, in turn, rests his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, pressing his sleeve to his mouth, and tangles their legs together. It's really warm. Pleasant. Ever since Akira came back, he didn't have much time to spend with Yusuke, both of them busy with the exams and work, only managing to meet twice throughout the past weeks, first during the Valentine's Day, then going for sushi. Not enough to make up for the absence.

"How are you feeling?" Akira says quietly, tilting his head to brush his lips against Yusuke's brow, who, clearly having trouble keeping his eyes open as the shared space grows warmer, lets out a pleased little sigh.

"As long as you're with me, I will always feel splendid," he says, voice muffled and already blurry with oncoming sleep.

"Smooth." Akira slips his hand under Yusuke's hoodie, running his fingers over the familiar skin on his side, careful not to stray too far up.

"I assure you," Yusuke says, pauses for a small yawn, then continues, "that this… smoothness of mine was purely coincidental."

"Of course it was, you're a nerd."

When the rebuttal doesn't come in five minutes, Akira declares Yusuke asleep and pulls out his phone. It takes quite a bit of careful wriggling, but soon enough he has his headphones on and is about to watch a gameplay of this visual novel which came out when he was — yeah. Anyway, he turns down the volume until he's sure the funky jazz soundtrack won't wake his boyfriend up, then, before losing himself in the world of death and despair, turns to give him one last look.

Just as Akira expected, Yusuke does seem much better now that he's had the chance to take some medicine and rest. He's frowning, just a bit, but still looks… relaxed. Safe. Almost peaceful, with his hair strewn around and thick eyelashes gently quivering. Akira files away this appearance of his, compares it to what he saw those months ago, when they first met. He thinks about that tall, wiry kid, so frail as if all that was to him were bones and veins, and how his voice wavered despite poised statements.

How the things change, huh. Akira shakes his head and unlocks his phone, going back to watching the game.

An hour in, Haru texts him and asks about his whereabouts. Grinning, Akira takes a quick selfie, to which she responds with a whole bunch of cute stickers, then wishes the both of them good time.

Two hours in, Ryuji sends him a photo of what he got Ann for a surprise gift, then also asks where the 'fresh fuck you are, my dude, its weird 2 be leblanc w/o you'. Akira replies with a multitude of cocksure emojis, then asks Ann to entertain her friend.

Three hours in, when he checks on Yusuke, he finds him peering back, his gaze much sharper than before.

"Hi there," he says, reaching out to brush his bangs out of his eyes and check his fever. It's not as bad as it was before. "Any better?"

"Quite. I no longer feel hardly cognizant; moreover, the realization that you weren't but a dream did do wonders to my well-being."

"You're once again using fancy words, so I guess you're okay." Putting his phone away and shifting onto his side, so they're facing each other, Akira smirks a bit. "And… wow, thanks."

"No, it is me who should thank you for being here." With an expression so sincere and vulnerable it's almost unfair, Yusuke meets Akira's eyes. "Your presence and never-ending support brings me infinite relief — so, you have my gratitude."

"This isn't something you shouldn't take for granted, you know," Akira says. "Having someone care for you is, like, perfectly normal."

"Hm." Yusuke looks down in thought. Akira slings his arm over him when he's busy collecting his thoughts. "That's right, I suppose. But…"

"But?"

"I'm sorry." Yusuke sighs, then starts explaining himself, his voice still considerably raspier and weaker than usual, "What you said caused me to think of Sen— Madarame. As my legal guardian, he did tend to my needs without much hesitation. Whenever I was ill, he ensured that I got the proper treatment, and, when I came out to him about—" he pulls away to gesture vaguely at his chest "—about this aspect of myself, he provided me with what I needed. And yet…" With another tired exhale, he allows Akira to embrace him again. "Yet this never felt any similar to how your care does."

As the silence settles in over them, still and heavy like hot summer air, Akira goes back to brushing his hand over Yusuke's side, from the boney hip to protruding ribs, and, once again, recalls that person he saw back in May. A shadow of a Shadow, sharp cheekbones and sickly bright gray eyes. Years of abuse which has been never called by that name, fear of losing what makes one feel human. How he laughed those seconds before awakening to his Persona.

Life really can and will change. Maybe that's what art can be about.

"My apologies," Yusuke speaks up. "Destroying the mood was not my intention."

"It's fine," Akira affirms instinctively. "Besides, you didn't ruin it at all."

"You're kind, Akira," Yusuke says, "but I value your sincerity. I do know that too many of our talks focus on my former teacher's deeds." The last part is barely audible as he stifles another bout of coughing.

"It's fine," Akira repeats. Upon getting fixed with a doubtful stare, he says, "It really is. Processing stuff by talking about it often counts as a part of recovery."

"Is that so?" Yusuke blinks at Akira's serious expression.

"Mhm. Got that from the book I read while at the juvie."

"Ah." He chuckles, briefly and with some strain. "That's… interesting to know. I'm glad you didn't idle away when— when you were there."

The atmosphere shifts to one Akira knows quite well. He doesn't reply, but instead waits for Yusuke to continue while letting him move away and roll onto his other side, then holding him again. This has happened before, many times, when words needed to be thought out and correct. So very often Akira watched Yusuke divert his eyes from him, turn his face away and stare down at his lap, or his hands, when the gears of his mind turned and turned, shapeless thoughts transforming into careful sentences.

Patient as ever, Akira gently tugs on Yusuke and, when the boy doesn't recoil, pulls him back, until the top of his head is tucked under Akira's chin, smooth blue hair ticking his neck. It's not an uncomfortable position, despite how tall Yusuke is, tall and lanky with his sharp elbows and perpetually cold feet; it's the one unique to those calm nights spent in Leblanc's attic, whenever Yusuke was allowed to sleep there.

A small sigh leaves his chapped lips.

"Thank you," he says in the end. "I— I merely wish I had already moved past the 'recovery' part."

(The events of Christmas Eve flash in Akira's mind, still vivid, preserved through nightmares. And then — the interrogation, taste of blood and numbing, dull pain. It's still there, and thinking about it causes his heart to skip a beat, every time, without a fail. And, huh, how different waking up will be when it's no longer to the smell of coffee and Morgana's small, warm body lying on his chest).

"Me too," Akira whispers. Yusuke takes his hand into his. "Believe me, me too."


End file.
